


La Vie En Rose

by Your_fifth_shot_of_tequila



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Like a little at the very end, M/M, Mild Gore, Rivals to Lovers, Sniper overthinks shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_fifth_shot_of_tequila/pseuds/Your_fifth_shot_of_tequila
Summary: Mundy can't shake these feelings, even after a year of no contact from the BLU rogue. As a blizzard barrels down on the Badlands, the sniper finds himself trudging in the snow for a long wave radio. Uncomfortable with his insecurities surrounding the missing man, Mundy can only wistfully reminisce on an almost love. Did the other even think about him anymore? Had he moved on?
Relationships: BLU Spy/RED Sniper, Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Snow nestled itself in every nook the Badlands had to offer; as the blizzard moved in. Mundy drew up his coat collar. Whether he liked it or not, staying in the camper would not be feasible tonight. Voices full of jubilation swimming in liquor dimly registered behind him. Mercs from both sides celebrated their first New Year together with the war long over. Minus a few notable exceptions.

Mundy shook himself from his musings, determined not to wallow in pity. No one had heard from the Blu rouge, not even Raoul. Mundy hazarded a glance at his friend; his burgundy pinstripe suit had been an indicator of the man's drunkenness. Currently, the last button of the sports jacket had been released. In no time, the jacket itself would wind up discarded on someone's floor.  


Swallowing around a lump, the sniper tried to think carefully. It wasn't like the pair hadn't found themselves rutting against each other before. Last time, however, Mundy had named the wrong twin. Raoul had no qualms with leaving him mid-coitus. That much had been made clear. It didn't stop his eyes from wandering, however.  
Raoul felt the melancholy stare trailing his body. The jar man had been sulking in the windowsill like a forlorn mutt. It was pitiful. Unfortunately, there was nothing for it. Rene was smoke in a hurricane. Eight months of no response did not sit well with Raoul. Admittedly, being raised as assassins, the twins were not close in a familial sense. Although they had professional respect for each other, enough to respond with something after so long.

Rene informed Raoul of his mission to Vietnam ten months ago. A bleeding heart for their homeland always, Rene enrolled with the French after BLU Industries' dissolution. When Mundy had misnamed Raoul, it was painful but not surprising. Rene entranced men, his measured conversation delving into personal topics Raoul could never divulge.

A dark thought had wormed itself into Raoul's brain months ago. He had tried to ignore the possibility for the sake of the sniper, despite not wanting to burden the other with a harsh truth. There was little else in the way of an answer. Rene' was either dead, captured, or disappeared. Prevalent fates for a spy caught deep in enemy territory, which if Rene was not lying in his last telegram, he was.

Mundy tried to look away when he realized Raoul had caught him staring. The other man started to approach his pointed gaze, worried Mundy. It wasn't angry; instead, the face was alien to him, drawn in soft lines of concern. His two shots of rye rebelled in his stomach. Taking a step back, the sniper found himself cornered between a wall and an incoming spy. His heart punched his lungs with the memory of Rene's hands up approaching him.

Joel and Jordan sidelined their father. Faces flushed with drink echoed across the cement interior. Raoul's masked face gnarling into a grimace. With Raoul distracted by his offspring, Mundy made towards the exit.

"Sniper?" Concern edged Pauling's voice. As he turned to face her, his mind blanked. "Where are you going?" Her wireframe glasses askew and cheeks flushed red. Seeing the cold and calculating Pauling so open and happy. It helped with bolstering his insecurities. Mundy glanced out amongst the sea of red and blue uniforms. Martin, Rene, and Dell were unreachable, even after a year.  
_He wouldn't run off with that jack off. Right?_ Mundy could feel his face flush.

"'M fine gotta go start the old girl, oil could freeze in my motor." He plucked a bottle of whiskey from Travis as he transported in already three sheets past gone. "Be back in just a tick." He winked before slinking off, his stomach turning in jealousy.

Despite the lack of evidence supporting such an elopement, his insecurities fed ravenously on the idea. Unscrewing the bottle, the sniper's demons needed a hefty swig. Could they be down in Australia right now? Warm on the beach, Rene's baklava long forgotten with his expensive suits. He'd still wear ocean blue, though Mundy couldn't square away whether the man would wear a swim thong or briefs. Calloused fingers dragging against his olive flesh, but those hands. They're calloused in similar ways to Mundy's own, but the square tips mark a real Australian.

Mundy was trembling, not from the cold, but a primal urge to go shoot something. His insides raged uncomfortably with these thoughts. _Would he really leave me for Martin? Leave?_ Mundy took another substantial chug, leaving the bottle quartered. _Rene wasn't his._

Rene didn't like talking about how the pair of spies had been raised. That didn't stop Mundy from imagining a domestic existence with the other. Out on his farm in sunny Australia. Rene was always enwrapped in Mundy's tales of being raised in the outback with his parents. Recognizable grief settled with the jealousy in his stomach as he trudged to the mines. If he was going to be stuck in a compound full of couples, he'd be damned if he didn't have a way to drown them out.

Mundy undeniably grew to love snow over his time employed by RED. Snow silenced the world with soft, elegant flakes capable of horrible destruction. Usually, the snow didn't get too bad in the Badlands, lately, though, the land was covered in at least a foot of snow. The hem of his pants weighed heavy against the leather of his boots. Orange light from periodic street lamps flickered the bulbs warring to stay warm.

"This is nothing compared to the Alps, Bushman." Smoke billowed past blue-tinted lips. Despite concentrated efforts, Rene couldn't suppress his shivers as artic winds blew through the worn wood of the RED tower. A ten-minute break had been afforded to the mercenaries while Dell had been called down by the Administrator. Rene reported with seeming indifference. However, Rene was not as sly as he thought when it came to something that interested him. The Administrator and Ms. Pauling had been his favorite human puzzles.

"Right, remind me when Oi asked yer opinion?" Mundy rolled his eyes as he cleaned the barrel of his gun. He didn't mean any menace behind the words, but after years of barbed banter between duels to the death? The habit was impossible to unlearn, not like Rene minded.

Rene's attention settled on the long wave radio droning about weather patterns in Queensland, Australia. He slid the large bronze cast box towards his end of the rickety table Mundy boldly called a work station. The largest dial was numbered in decimals; a smaller one next to it had abbreviations of countries, each pinned between a pair of white arrows. Rene' turned the countries; static crackled over the man's voice. Mundy yelped, covering his ears.

"Bloody hell! Stop playing with the damn thing!" Rene ignored him. Turning the dial again, he lined the abbreviation of America with the arrow. The static overlayed an entanglement of instruments. Rene' began twisting the numbered dial, trying to refine the sound.

Mundy set aside his rifle, ready to rip the radio from Rene when a trumpet softly resounded. The melody slow and steady as a piano and guitar began accompanying. Rene placed the radio back a soft smile contoured his face. Mundy's heart jumped at the sight. In all these years, the other man had never smiled. Rene flashed condescending smirks repeatedly, but this genuine curve of soft pink lips. It was new. Precious to the sniper as if a rare butterfly crossed his path. Fully aware, he could not contain this moment in anything but the memory. As a deep gravel voice crooned from the radio, Rene stood. He offered a hand to Mundy.

_Hold me close and hold me fast._

Mundy took Rene's gloved hand, standing as Rene's pulled him to his feet. Rene wasted no time wrapping his free arm around Mundy's shoulder, leaning in close.

"Can you dance, Mundy?" No, he had avoided intimate contact actually, admitting that right now, though, hardly seemed right.

_The magic spell you cast_

"I'll try my best." He chuckled. Rene's soft smile turned into a gentle laugh. Far from the scoff he made after a rude remark, the light sound bubbled out of the other. Rene seemed equally surprised by the sound. Mundy wrapped his own free arm around Rene's waist before the other ran from the intimacy. "Just for you, Rene.'" He whispered the name like a prayer, earning the flush he wanted across the other's hidden face.

 _This is la vie en rose_.

Rene led Mundy, who, for the most part, only occasionally stepped on his feet as they danced. Rene' didn't chastise Mundy despite wincing ever so slightly when Mundy repeatedly caught the other man's toes underfoot.

As the song drew to a close, Rene leaned into Mundy, giving his cheek a quick peck. Rene vacated his place in Mundy's arms, retreating towards the exit as if burned.  
Mundy tried to recollect his thoughts. What did he do wrong?

"Rene?" Mundy stepped towards the other, who turned back with a weak, forced smile.

"Merci, I have to report back to base." He gives a slight nod towards the door before continuing his escape.

"But the cease-fire." Rene' was gone by the time Mundy forced his feet to move.

The decaying tower's redwood creaked, swaying in a precarious dance. Mundy stole his nerves as he crossed the threshold. Surely the whole damn thing won't collapse just cause he's in here. Wood protested loudly under his weight, punctuating his passage towards the stairs. Digging in his coat pocket gave his numb fingers temporary relief as he searched for his flashlight. His ability to differentiate texture momentarily frozen the task took a moment longer than he cared to admit.

The beam of yellow light did little to quell the fear slowly bubbling in his mind. He didn't believe in ghosts before defending these mines; now he knew all too well how real they were. The stairs tremble underfoot as he cautiously ascends to his old nest. Old memories tangling with ethereal beings before his eyes. How many times has he been thrown this flight of stairs by the person he was now reminiscing about? Did Rene even think about him? Or was this all part of the job? Every kiss just a passing of time?

Crack!

Mundy's foot crashed through a step, wood scrapping against his boot until finding purchase in vulnerable flesh.

"FUCK!" Mundy cries, his flashlight sliding away from his hand. Light spun wildly with each metallic clank as the flashlight tumbled down the stairs. Panic flooded his brain. Jerking his leg from the hole forced new splinters deeper into his flesh. Through gritted teeth, Mundy tried to regulate his breathing. He couldn't panic and run. The old wood cradling his lower thigh; inner knee wept from fresh, gaping maws.

His eyes began adapting to the strain of incomplete darkness. The flashlight landing somewhere in the doorway, casting its light on the wall opposite him. Forcing calming breaths, Mundy tries to think this situation through. Disappearing from social gatherings wasn't new for him, so no one would be coming out in a blizzard for him. Escaping with the least amount of blood loss is the ideal outcome, but he'd take what he could get. Sniper needed to take inventory of his situation. Leg splinter filled, flashlight gone, whiskey also gone, his kukri holstered, and he had no gun. Mundy wiggles his toes of the injured leg, sighing in relief as they move. He could walk out of this. Serrated wood kept his leg pinned. However, if he could widen the hole, maybe he could slip out.

Adjusting his body to lean on his free knee pulled at the wood. Splinters burst from his mannerisms; the ache of fresh cuts is followed by the sensation of a loosening grasp. Throwing his previous plan aside, Mundy stood pulling his leg free. The momentum causes him to sway back. His body weightless in his free fall. His hands grasping for something anything. Panic refilled his lungs, suffocating.

His back collides with the stairs, air evacuating his being. As his body begins to slide, all Mundy can think is to cover his head.


	2. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it! It winded up being twice as long as the first update, so please enjoy the end of La Vie en Rose!

An EKG machine dully blipped. Mundy's head barely registered as his in the current state of his drug-addled mind, as if he could peer down at his body from another dimension. The world turned to black momentarily. Mundy's heart began to race at the flashing of reality. Too far gone to realize he was merely blinking. 

Dr. Faust observed his patient's panic from the viewpoint of his stool to the right of the team sniper. He could relax the man, but he was curious to see the after-effects of the anesthesia Miss Pauling had ordered. Her status as the owner of both BLU and RED suited the young woman. The feud had dissolved, of course, but there were plenty of mine injuries.

Mundy's fingers twitched sporadically, though his grip on reality itself was solidifying. He recognized this mess of machines bordering torture devices. His eyes darted around, zeroing in on the figure sitting to his right. He tried to acknowledge the other man with a greeting. 

"Ocktor?" He slurred through numb lips.

"Herr Mundy, would you mind elaborating on why you were in the watchtower." Dr. Faust knew damn well he couldn't, but if the patient was willing to play business as usual, who was he to deny him? The other man's brow furrowed as he began attempting to rouse his facial muscles. His lips contorted from a frown to grimace to smile; the process was not agreeable from Faust's vantage.

"Oiiii onnt emver." Mundy's frustration mounted at the gibberish he was spewing. "Vhhat iid ouuu too moi ace?"

"Pardon me, Herr Mundy, but in my professional opinion, you are not in any condition to speak." Faust stood rounding the bed to stand at the foot. He pulled a chart from the file compartment of the bed, jotting down quick notes about the current side effects of the enflurane with the methohexital. 

"Herr Raoul discovered you at the bottom of a flight of stairs, nearing hypothermia." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Since you are awake, he would like a conversation with you," Faust chuckled to himself, patting Mundy's blanketed foot. "It appears he will have to settle with a lecture." 

Faust left though Mundy wasn't disappointed. He didn't trust the doctor still. Mundy sighed, resigning himself to the confines of a drugged body. His head buzzed in a low pitch that was neither annoying nor pleasant. He couldn't remember exactly why he was in the watchtower or even being there. He could remember dodging Raoul, and Pauling's glasses being off-kilter. A barb of pain resounded from the back of his skull. After the party no longer existed in his memory bank.

The door creaked open, although Mundy couldn't see it, he recognized displeasure in the click of Raoul's shoes. Tension billowed out behind the burgundy man; Mundy's flesh prickled. As Raoul's face came into view, Mundy was horrified to see him without a mask. Raoul's eyes sharply assessing the drugged man, a storm of emotions brewing behind a glassy sheen. Fear gripped Mundy; he'd only seen Raoul cry once before.

Raoul's deep sigh unnerved Mundy. Raoul's hands came to his temples, vicious circles being traced into the bone.

"What…" He breathed in heavy, holding in the breath, "What happened?" His voice rigid like drying hide.

Silence perturbs Mundy as he racks his brain for any solution. He could hardly move his head; talking would be nothing short of herculean. 

"Oii ansstd aidio." Gob smack replaced somber decorum. The spy lifted a hand to his face covering his lips, but not the smile in his eyes.  
Mundy tried to smile; Raoul's rough bark of laughter assured him the attempt fell short.

"We will talk when you have rested," Raoul ran a shaky hand through his peppered hair. The storm subsided, but that glassy cover stayed.   
Mundy mentally cursed the doctor, the drugs, himself. 

"Aowl?" Mundy tried.

"Hush mon ami," Raoul sat in the rolling chair left by Faust. "I will be here when you wake up."

Raoul's posture never faltered as he plucked a silver case from his inner coat pocket. His attention on smoking afforded Mundy time to observe the man who had saved him. No doubt Raoul would pretend it was nothing, but it didn't stop the warm flutter in his heart. Nor did it ebb the guilt weighing heavy on his mind. Would he even be here if he hadn't been so lost in the past? Chasing the vapors of a memory.

"Sleep or Faust will be whipping you up another cocktail." Raoul challenged Mundy's gaze, who quickly surrendered with an eye roll. Raoul huffed dryly on his cigarette.   
  
Sun's rays beat down on Mundy. Driving the plow has always been his favorite chore, spans of alone time with Lawrence, the family mule. It was easier to talk to Lawrence about his troubles; the old jackass didn't judge or question his choices. 

As they continued their plowing, Mundy began to elaborate on his latest dilemma. It was clear he wasn't over, well, anything regarding his love life. Memories of Rene became menthols, filling his head with sweet blue-gray smoke forming a cloud around the pair as they walked. Dense enough to obscure his vision but not entirely blot it out. 

A dingo's cries pierce the smoke. Sound twisting in the air with cigarette smoke above Mundy, a battle ensues. He looked over to see Lawrence. Rene puffed on a cigarette.

"What are you doing, Mundy?" His voice soft, barely audible over the enduring battle, as it grew fierce. The wind lashed at Mundy, but Rene didn't seem fazed. 

"Are you safe?" The words fell from Mundy's mouth before he could consider.  
Rene dragged on the silence. "That isn't why I am here." 

"Where is here?" Mundy tried to hide the exasperation edging his voice. The wind screamed around them, forming a dust devil as the sound waves morphed into a cloud of dusted sandstone. They didn't have time for riddles.

"We don't have time for these questions." Despite his voice hitching intensity, Rene didn't change from casually smoking a cigarette. "Why are you taking moronic risks with your life?" His eyes were as piercing as Raoul's. He blinked, and Rene was gone. Raoul nonchalantly smoking.

"Are we so interchangeable to you?" Ice barbed into Mundy's heart. He wanted to say no, but did he even mean it?   
A piercing whistle rang from the purple mass of roaring wind as it crashed over the pair. Screams chased each other as Rene and Raoul walked away from Mundy, their backs the last thing he saw before, black.

His breathing caught in his throat as if the air itself was too large for his esophagus. Choking him on his own breath. His heart battering his lungs. The world of machines spun lazily around him; in the distance, he could hear voices. They were underwater demented distortions of familiar voices. 

Slowly. Inhale. Exhale. Focus. Mundy breathed out shakily. He was still in a bed in the Medic's room. The erratic beeping of the EKG machine punctuating the distress seizing Mundy's chest. It was just a nightmare. His mind reasoned. His chest hollowed itself out as the scenes replayed themselves like a dirty VHS tape. Conscious thought registering his reality, assessing the dreams as if lining up a shot. 

They weren't interchangeable. Mundy's face burned at the rationalization. For him, that may be obvious; but he hadn't been acting as though the pair were separate. He missed Rene terribly. Sleeping with Raoul ebbed at the longing but never quenched it.

Raoul was a puzzle that was missing all the edge pieces. He only allowed the surface of his emotions to breach his face. Even during sex, the man seemed to be putting on a show for his partner. If he was drunk enough sometimes, he'd slip up and admit, he missed his family. Mundy knew Raoul would never admit it sober. 

Rene kept his emotions close to his chest. Wagering with ones he could use to best elevate his situation, there were times, between bouts of fighting, Rene would show his hand. Dancing, talking, even during a match, the poker face would falter. When they first started their…fling, Rene wouldn't admit it, but he wouldn't stab Mundy in the back. Even if it would cost him the fight. Mundy would swear on his parents' graves; Rene even apologized as Mundy died. Rene was secretive: a bloody smart ass; charmingly sharp; disarmingly open at times; surprisingly loyal; lovingly gentle. Everything Mundy wanted.

His eyes stung. They weren't interchangeable. He loved Rene. As the tears started to slide, Mundy silently sent a prayer to his parents. He didn't know if they'd approve, but if he found Rene, he was going to marry him. This year and a half apart with no contact was handily one of the worst of his life.

Wiping his eyes, Mundy could hear the voices wrapping up their argument, drawing closer to the double doors. Raoul's voice agitated. Pauling's even more so. As they opened the door, Mundy sat up to tip his head.

"Mornin'" He smiled welcomingly. Shock registered across both of their faces. Raoul's masked face morphed back to indifference. Pauling's tore through a throng of emotions before settling on consternation. 

"It's half past sixteen hundred hours." Her voice was cold as she approached the bed. Mundy tried to sink back into the bed.

"Oh, is that so?" He couldn't run from Pauling; she wouldn't let him get far. He tried to force a calm exterior inside every atom of his being wanted to flee. As she leaned over him, Mundy felt eclipsed by the five three woman.

"What. Were. You. Doing." The annunciation of each word grew progressively rigid with emotion.

"I… ehrghm" Mundy cleared his throat. "I was trying to retrieve a radio."

"What happened to starting the camper and coming right back?" She arched her eyebrow, arms crossed. Mundy floundered.

"I... Well, you see… I went... the thing is."

"Stop beating around the bush," Raoul interjected. "Just tell us why you lied." 

Mundy sighed heavily. He didn't know how to answer that honestly without hurting Raoul. He didn't want to admit it, but the radio was his last hope. Rene would be wherever there was discord. If he searched through every countries' radio station, maybe just maybe he'd find something.

"You know the respawn machine is down; what if Raoul hadn't found you in time?" His face burned in shame. He wasn't much of a liar.

"I just wanted," He sighed heavily. "I want to find him." 

Silence.

"The dead can't find the living." Pauling strode from the room. Her heels clicking disappointed tongues as she made her way to the communication hub.

Now it was just him and Raoul. The masked man retook the rolling seat rearranging himself as he did before—a cigarette between his lips, knives for eyes pinning Mundy to the bed.

"I think it is time we have a chat." His metal lighter clicked open, his gloved fingers never interfering with striking the flint.

"I reckon it is." Mundy prepared himself to let Raoul know how he felt. He didn't want to hurt the spy. What they were doing wasn't how he wanted this friendship to be. Raoul released a cloud of smoke through his nose. 

"Rene is missing."

Mundy's been hit many times before. In Australia, hierarchies were formed and maintained through violence. He couldn't remember every time he had been winded by a punch. Still, the sensation never changed—the blunt impact compressing his insides to the spinal column. The feeling didn't touch the breathlessness choking him now.

"Mundy?" Raoul's hand gripped his shoulder. "Are…"

He didn't finish his question; the twin trails racing down the sniper's features answered more than enough.

"How long?" 

"Eight months." 

Mundy's face melted. His waning control over his tears read across his brow. Concern, desperation, and defeat morphed into an amalgamation of intense despair behind the ocean's storm-wracked pools. He looked away from the other man as a sob rattled in his chest. 

Raoul's hand left the crying man. Instead intertwining it with his other gloved hand. He glanced at the machines littering the Medic's space, the birdcages, a bleach white freezer. As Mundy's heaving breaths filled the room, the spy's skin crawled. He wanted to leave but knew that might offend the sniper. The spy caught himself missing his brother. Rene would know how to act around someone crying. 

"Je suis navré." 

He left Mundy to grieve privately.   
  
The radio crackled wildly as Mundy turned the frequency dial. Thailand was a bust, he murmured bitterly to himself as he crossed out the country on his paper. His systematic approach may not be practical, but he didn't have much else. Tracking down a spy wasn't like tracking down a bounty; spies knew not to leave a trace. 

None of his contacts from previous jobs had heard of Rene, let alone seen him. Mundy rubbed his eyes till colors formed in the black behind his lids. Where are you? Raoul had mentioned Vietnam. Naturally, Mundy started his search there. After two months, he was no closer to finding the Blu spy. 

Mundy spent most nights alone in his camper sifting through station after station long into the earliest of daylight. His insides rebelled against the steady diet of coffee and occasional bits of what could be barely be qualified as food. No one visited him, not that he blamed them. 

Mundy's life felt surreal. As if his cheating of death pissed off the ties of fate, now they were determined to make him long for heaven. _Would Rene even go to heaven?_  
He shook his head. Hard. Rene isn't dead. Just missing. 

He switched countries to America. The static cleared into a man wailing, _'It ain't me! I ain't no senator's son!'_ Mundy changed the station a woman's voice crooned from the box.

_Like a heartbeat… drives you mad_

Mundy was about to switch the station again when.

_In the stillness of remembering what you had_

His hand hesitated over the dial as the entrancing music billowed from the box. The woman's heartbreak gnawed at Mundy's own. 

_And what you lost…_

He allowed the song to continue. Standing from his camper table, he plucked his empty coffee mug from the table. The coffee lukewarm in the pot had been sitting for two days. Still, he refilled his cup, taking a sip of the viscous liquid. 

Knock, knock.

The sniper noiselessly sat down the cup, reaching for his kukri on the counter. He approached the door with the blade raised high. It was probably Pauling making sure he was alive, but old habits and all that. 

He opened the door, prepared to defend his state of being. He hadn't showered yet, but it was only Wednesday; he wasn't that ripe. Yet.

"Look, I'll be in for a wash tomorrow," He began as he opened the door. 

"May I convince you to reconsider?" Rene's shit-eating grin stopped the sniper. 

He barreled into the other man with a loud cheer. The other released an undignified squeak at the contact. 

Rene found himself being spun in the air to frantic chants of 'You're here!' He looked down at the sniper from his vantage point aloft in the man's arms. He looked in a word, dreadful. Dark bags encircled his eyes; his body odor was potent enough to make Rene's eyes water; furthermore, he had a beard. Rene stroked his fingers through the other man's hair. Thankful for his gloves as a sheen was left on the leather from the other man's hair. 

"Yes, I am here." He soothed, leaning forward to kiss Mundy's forehead. 

Mundy put Rene down, put his hand didn't leave the other man's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Mundy scanned the man before him. He didn't see any injuries, though the spy's suit was disheveled. Rene offered a soft smile.

"Oui, are you?" He looked Mundy up and down, "You look, ahem, exhausted."

Mundy laughed, the raw sound cracking.

"Just a tad bit."

"Mundy, I am sorry." Rene cupped Mundy's cheek, "I never wanted to cause you so much pain."

Mundy licked his lips. He needed to say it. 

"Don't try to take all the blame, I should have admitted this to myself years ago." Mundy wrapped an arm around Rene's waist, pulling him in. "I'm in love with you, Rene. When I went home, all I could think about was bringing you to Australia. Wherever I went, I wanted you next to me; it scared me. I'm comfortable with being alone; it's never once bothered me before you. When I thought about what could have happened to you, I went mental. I don't want to live without your sarcasm, your smile, your life, your voice; without you." 

Rene's arms enclosed the taller man. 

He leaned close up to Mundy's face.

"I love you too." Rene's lips hovered over Mundy's.

As they connected, the men tried to convey the pit in their beings beyond words—the one the other seamlessly filled as if they had been separated by the stars.

When they disconnected, 

"Rene, will you marry me?" The words rushed out between them. Rene's gobsmacked face softened into a boisterous laugh.

"After you bathe, I will not be Mr. Pissman." Mundy barked out a laugh.

"Fair enough." Mundy leaned down to kiss Rene again. Cherishing the seconds, he could feel Rene's heartbeat against his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed these characters, even if I'm behind the curve. I already have started working out another longer story with the TF2 characters so keep an eye out. As always if you like the piece leave a comment or kudos, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, this is part one. It kind of hurt to write, not gonna lie; trying to write a character working through past love hits way too close to home. Let me know what you think down below; see ya!


End file.
